Going Somewhere
by Dreamin
Summary: Sherlolly AU: Molly picks up a hitchhiker just as a thunderstorm hits.


A/N: This is based on a Tumblr prompt - "Imagine your OTP meeting when Person A picks up Person B as a hitchhiker." If you're looking for the Explicit version, that's "Getting Somewhere" on AO3, same username.

* * *

 _There had better be a hotel around here,_ Molly Hooper thought, annoyed. _I am_ _ **not**_ _spending the night in my car, especially considering those storm clouds over there._ The ominous clouds were still far enough in the distance that Molly was confident she'd find a place to stay for the night before the rain started.

She saw a large black shape on the left side of the road far ahead of her. As she got closer, Molly could see it was a man with curly black hair and a long black coat. _What on Earth? What's somebody doing out walking? There's not a town for miles._ He was walking in the same direction as her. _I haven't passed any abandoned cars, where did he come from?_

Molly slowed down as she got closer to the man then watched as he stuck out his thumb. _The hell? Who hitchhikes these days? Doesn't he know how dangerous it is?_ She jumped as a loud thunderclap announced the storm's sudden arrival, though the man didn't even flinch. The rain started to come down in sheets just as she pulled up next to him. _I cannot believe I'm doing this!_ _My dad always told me never to pick up hitchhikers. He could be a murderer, a rapist, a psychopath, a pervert, or all of the above!_

The front passenger door opened then the man quickly got in and closed the door. "Thank you," he said. "I suggest we keep going, this road is prone to flooding." He fastened the seatbelt.

Molly nodded and started down the road again. "So, you're from around here?"

"No," the man said.

"Then how-"

"I can tell by the weeds on the side of the road that it floods here every time there's a downpour."

"Oh, so you're a botanist?"

"Consulting detective."

"I don't know what that is," she admitted.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm like a private detective, but I also aide the police when they are out of their depth, which is always."

"What does that have to do with weeds and flooding?"

"I once proved a man's alibi by examining the weeds on the side of the road where his car broke down." She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Oh." She paused. "Molly Hooper."

"Sherlock Holmes."

"I'd shake your hand but I'd rather keep both hands on the wheel."

"I'd prefer it if you did as well."

"Where are you headed? And where's your car?"

He named some village she'd never heard of, but then she'd never heard of the one she was going to either. "As for the car, my partner is still driving it."

 _Partner? Oh._ "Why aren't you in it?"

"He thought I was being rude so he told me I could walk."

"Were you?"

He shrugged. "Probably."

Molly glanced outside the window at the storm. "Have you got a phone with you?"

"Yes, of course."

"Can you see how long this storm is supposed to last?"

He pulled his phone out of his coat pocket and started scrolling. "All night."

"Bloody hell," she muttered.

"My sentiments exactly."

After another hour of driving in the rain, they arrived at a village, though it wasn't either of the villages they were looking for. Molly found a hotel and Sherlock braved the rain to get them rooms. When he got back to the car, she could tell by the look on his face that something was wrong.

"Are they full?" she asked.

"They gave us the last room." At her hopeful look, he added, "But there's just one bed, a twin. You should take it, I barely sleep anyway."

"Don't be silly, you must have been walking for hours, you're exhausted. C'mon." Molly grabbed her purse and her overnight bag, which Sherlock gentlemanly insisted on carrying, then they both got out of the car and made a dash for the front doors.

Once they were inside their room, Molly took a look around. It was tiny – just a twin bed against one wall, a small desk and chair, and a nightstand with a lamp. A closet and the door to the even smaller bathroom took up one wall.

"There's a pub across the street if you feel like dinner," Sherlock said.

 _Good idea, it'll get my mind off that far-too-small bed,_ Molly thought. "Only if you come with me, I hate eating alone."

"I don't eat while I'm on a case."

"Please? You don't have to eat anything, I just need company."

After a moment, he sighed. "Alright."

Once they were outside, both of them ran to the pub. After they were seated in a booth towards the back, a waitress took their orders – fish and chips for Molly, just chips for Sherlock (Molly insisted), and pints for both.

While they waited for their food, Molly decided to get to know her temporary roommate. "So, um, tell me about your partner?"

"John? Easily exasperated, adrenaline junkie, damn good doctor. His wife-"

"His wife?" Molly cut in, surprised. "Oh! When you said he was your partner, I thought you meant your life partner. He must be your business partner."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Why does everyone assume he's my boyfriend?"

"You get that a lot?"

"Constantly. For the record, because he'd insist on it if he were here, John's straight and I'm busy."

She smiled a bit. "'Busy' isn't a sexuality."

A waitress came by with their pints. When she left, Sherlock took a sip of his. "Close enough. I have the Work, I don't need a 'significant other.' Such an inane designation. What about you?"

"Straight, single. I've recently been the victim of many blind dates that went nowhere, it's like my nearest and dearest don't know me at all." A boom of thunder made Molly jump slightly. "I hate thunderstorms. Anyway, what do you do for fun?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "My work is fun, to me anyway. Chasing a criminal all over London, putting together clues that would make no sense to anyone else, beating someone at their own game, that is fun."

Molly smiled. "When you put it like that, it does sound fun. Certainly more fun than small animal taxidermy."

"That's your hobby?" Sherlock looked intrigued.

She nodded. "I started when I was in secondary school, after my hamster died."

"Do you still have it?"

Molly smiled a bit. "Hammie is at my parents' house. My dad got attached to him when I went off to uni. He kept him in his study. After Dad passed away, Mum decided to just leave Hammie there for Dad's sake. She dusts him off once a month."

Sherlock chuckled. "Your parents were alright with your 'morbid' hobby?"

Molly grinned. "I think they were just relieved I didn't go goth."

"Hey, girly, how 'bout a dance?" a very drunk man asked as he came over to them, leering at her.

Molly shrank away from him but before she could reply, Sherlock spoke up.

"The lady is with me," he said coldly. "Move along. Or better still, go back to your wife. Stop spending all your pay on cheap beer and she just might take you back."

The drunk glared at Sherlock but was distracted when somebody at the bar loudly announced they were buying a round of drinks for everyone. He grinned and went back to the bar.

Sherlock rolled his eyes then turned back to Molly. "You were saying?"

* * *

By the time Molly was done eating and Sherlock was done denying he was hungry while still eating his chips, the two of them had fended off three men hitting on Molly, five women hitting on Sherlock, and a couple hitting on both of them. Sherlock was muttering something about the entire population of the UK being oversexed while he paid their tab and left a generous tip. When people weren't coming onto them, they did get to know each other a little better. Molly promised to check out his blog and John's the next time she was online, Sherlock said he'd probably drop in on her morgue and ask for the odd body part to experiment on.

It was still pouring when they left the bar and made another dash across the street to the hotel. As soon as they were back in their room, Molly grabbed her overnight bag and slipped into the tiny bathroom. After going through an abbreviated version of her nighttime routine, she dug into her bag and realized the only thing she had brought to sleep in was an old pink t-shirt that barely covered her knickers.

 _This would be fine if I were by myself. But if I go out there with this on, he'll think I was coming on to him. Ugh... I guess I should be grateful he's too "busy" to want to do anything._ Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and left the bathroom.

And immediately wished she could go back in. Sherlock was standing by the bed in nothing but his black silk boxers.

Molly could only think one thing. _Oh God, it's going to be a long night._

Sherlock looked up and she swore he blushed a little. "I … er … didn't bring a bag. I hope you don't mind…"

 _It's good to know he's as nervous as I am._ Molly smiled weakly. "It's fine, Sherlock. We're both adults." Tugging on the hem of her shirt probably belied her words but she didn't care, it wasn't nearly as long as she'd like.

His eyes took in her bare legs then they snapped back up to hers. "Er … which side of the bed do you prefer?"

Molly looked at the bed. It was barely big enough to have two sides. "Um, the left, I guess." It was the side against the wall. _If I just face the wall, maybe it'll feel more private._

"Alright," Sherlock said. He turned off the overhead light, leaving just the small lamp on the nightstand. "After you."

She got into bed then lay on her side as close to the wall as she could get without actually touching it. _This isn't so bad, there should be plenty of room for him._ She heard Sherlock sigh heavily.

"You're being ridiculous," he muttered. "Like you said, we're both adults. Ignoring me won't help." He turned off the lamp and the small room was suddenly lit only by the nightlight low on the wall by the bathroom door.

Molly slowly turned onto her other side just in time to see Sherlock climb in next to her and lay on his side. The bed that felt big enough a moment ago now felt only slightly roomier than a coffin. She pressed her back against the wall to give him more space.

Sherlock watched her for a moment then sighed again. "C'mere."

"What?" she asked, confused.

He huffed in annoyance. "Move closer, Molly. If we're going to actually sleep, we need to be comfortable."

She hesitated for a moment then scooted closer, still keeping space between them, then gasped when Sherlock pulled her into his arms. He rolled his eyes. "Isn't this more comfortable?"

 _Actually, no,_ she thought. The sight of his gorgeous face up close, the smell of his citrus and sandalwood cologne, the feeling of his bare skin against hers, and the sound of his deep voice had her overwhelmed and overstimulated. _There's no way I'm sleeping anytime soon._ With no other choice, she buried her face in his shoulder.

After a moment, she felt him gently rub her back and she slowly relaxed. Just as she was drifting off, she thought she felt him kiss her hair.

* * *

Molly woke the next morning with her head pillowed on a man's chest. She was utterly baffled until she raised her head and saw the sleeping face of the man she was in bed with, then it all came back to her. It took her a moment to realize that Sherlock was lying on his back and she was draped over him but once it did, she hurriedly tried to get up. A pair of strong hands held her firmly but gently in place.

"Mmm, not yet," Sherlock murmured sleepily, his eyes still closed. "Feels good."

Sighing in defeat, Molly laid her head on his chest again. "We have to get up at some point, Sherlock. I have a conference to go to and you have a case to solve."

"I checked my mobile an hour ago – all of the roads leading to the village are flooded. No one's leaving here anytime soon."

She lifted her head to stare down at him. Sherlock grinned up at her then raised his hands to the sides of her face and gently pulled her down for a kiss.

"Good morning, by the way," he murmured against her lips.

* * *

After an epic make-out session and separate showers since the shower stall wasn't big enough for two, they had breakfast at a little café down the street. Molly found herself focused on her croissant, wondering where this thing between them was going to go.

"Out with it," Sherlock murmured. "I can hear you thinking from here."

She finally looked up at him. "What's next, Sherlock?"

"The roads should be open this afternoon. I should have the criminal caught and be home before dark. You'll go to your conference and your speech on post-mortem lividity will be a highlight."

She smiled weakly. "I meant for us."

"Ah. I meant what I said, I don't need a 'significant other.'" Her hopes fell then he added, grinning, "But I find myself wanting one, very much. That is, if the 'significant other' is you."

Molly's face lit up. "I want that too. We can get together when we both get back to London. Where do you live?"

"221B Baker Street."

 _Seriously?_ She stared at him. "Sherlock, we only live two streets apart."

Sherlock was about to say something when his mobile chirped. He pulled it from his pocket and read the text. He looked up at her. "It's from John, he's coming to pick me up – there's been a development in the case."

"But the roads are closed."

"Police helicopter, he's meeting me just outside the village." He got up and took out enough money from his wallet to pay for their food and a generous tip. "I have to go."

Before she had a chance to respond, he was out the door.

* * *

She didn't hear from him for the rest of the weekend. Monday morning, Molly was on her way out of her flat when she opened her front door and froze. Sherlock was standing there holding two Starbucks cups and grinning at her shock.

"Good morning, Molly. I want to apologize for leaving the way I did. John suggested I bring you coffee."

She grinned at him. "Oh, Sherlock, I don't need coffee, I just need you."


End file.
